


The Language of Love

by Shoshanna Gold (shoshannagold)



Category: The OC
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-13
Updated: 2003-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-24 01:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoshannagold/pseuds/Shoshanna%20Gold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan knows more about boats now than he ever will cars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Language of Love

**Author's Note:**

> I did my best with the French. Translation at the end.

He'd left Seth sleeping: his lazy-ass boyfriend didn't have anything to do until a seminar later in the afternoon, and they'd been up late playing the new version of ProSkater. Getting up in time for class had been a struggle and Ryan was sipping his coffee and pondering the plausibility of crawling back into bed with Seth after French class as he followed the instructor's instruction to turn to page seventy-six. "Tahiti!" read the text in big, purple letters, and Ryan felt a million times more awake as a rush of warm memories swept over him.

 _Tahiti._ Sandy and Kirsten had seen them off at the marina, Kirsten crying the entire time. They'd logged sailing plans with every little island port from LA to Tahiti, and had promised to call at least once every two days, either on the satellite phone that the Cohens had insisted they take, or, when they were within range, with the state-of-the-art radio that the yacht came with, and whose brother was now set up in the Cohen's kitchen. There was even a laptop, because apparently sailors were as addicted to email as the rest of the world. Seth had chosen the crew, two men and a woman in their late 20's, with 30 years of open ocean experience between them. Equally important, they were all fine with spending a long time with two 18 year-old gay boys.

 _Tahiti._ It had taken Seth most of their senior year of high school to convince Ryan to defer college for a semester so they could take the yacht Caleb had promised Seth upon graduation to the high seas. Ryan had wanted to go, but he was worried about losing his scholarship, about falling behind before he even got to college, about pissing off Sandy and Kirsten by stealing their son away for six months. But Seth, ever persistent, had employed various methods to sway Ryan. One week he would only speak in nautical terms - Ryan had never thought that terms like goosenecking or nippers could lead to such a mind-blowing orgasm. Another week he'd let them eat only fish. Then there had been the subtle approach: Ryan couldn't open a drawer without finding a little sailing boat or some kind of yachting gadget. He'd once made the mistake of falling asleep on the couch one afternoon after school and woke up to find his shoelaces tied together in a perfect bowline knot. A couple of days later he'd been moved to tears of laughter when he'd unbuttoned Seth's jeans and been confronted with boxers silk screened with "Tahiti? Please." Ryan had finally broken on Passover, when Seth had turned the Four Questions into Tahiti-speak: Why is this night different than any other night? For tonight Ryan will agree to go to Tahiti.

 _Tahiti._ Nothing but ocean and sky for miles. Seth was happier than Ryan had ever seen him, and that included the night that Ryan had turned to him and said, finally, "I'm going to kick your ass at Gran Turismo and then I'm going to kiss you senseless. Enough foreplay already." He'd had been right on both accounts that night.

Ryan had thought they might be lonely or bored out there since they'd decided not to take a television or the Playstation, all the modern toys that Seth seemed to live for. But they'd brought books, Seth had spent a week burning MP3s, and Ryan learned the fine art of doing nothing and being perfectly happy about it. He and Seth shared the aft cabin with a double bed, and it had been a relief to not have to make sure Seth was awake early enough to sneak into the main house before Sandy went surfing. And for the first time since he'd ended up in Newport, he hadn't had to worry about Marissa. Even though they'd decided that they were better off as friends after she moved in with her dad, he'd still found that he spent a lot of time propping her up. But she was at Smith, he was on the Pacific, and that felt like just the right distance between him and her particular brand of neediness.

 _Tahiti._ The Tradewinds had worked their magic, and they'd only had a couple of cloudy days, one semi-serious storm. Or at least it had felt serious to Ryan, whose sea legs, while vastly improved since his first expedition with Seth, were still adapting. But he'd stuck to his post, and they'd ridden it out, hitting the nearest port as soon as possible. Ryan knew more about boats now than he ever would about cars, and he'd surprised even himself by the amount he'd wanted to learn. Navigation, charting, boat maintenance. Hell, the right way to cast a line for deep sea fishing. Seth had changed along the way, becoming a stronger, more assured version of himself, and Ryan fell deeper in love than he'd ever thought possible. He'd had no choice but to try and keep up with the changes in Seth by changing himself.

Seth had been on watch the first night they were at sea and Ryan, unable to sleep, had joined him. They'd sat on the bow and watched the different jelly fish, phosphorescent in the dark, drift through the water.

"Look, there's a shark off starboard." Seth had pointed to the dark waters, where, sure enough, a fin was visible.

"We don't need to worry about that, do we?" Ryan's back was to Seth's chest, and he was lying back, supported by his lover. Seth's arms tightened around him.

"My big strong man. If anybody at school had known all the things you're afraid of, we would have both had our asses kicked on a daily basis. No, he's more interested in those day-glow sea mutations than he is in us. He doesn't even really know that we're here."

"Good. I have no desire to be chum." He crooked his head up, angling for a kiss. Seth met his lips sweetly.

"Yeah, I'm happy with you intact. This - this is so nice, Ryan. I know we just started out , but I'm already sort of scared of going back, because, dude, I can't imagine anything else ever being this good. And my imagination - well, let's just say it's talented. I can imagine all kinds of things. But this is better than even I thought it could be."

"We're just going to have to work hard to make sure it stays good."

"Yeah? Any idea on how to do that?"

This was something Ryan had actually been thinking about, and he had several ideas. He'd stayed up with Seth that night, and many after that, talking about college and what came after. Seth was pretty sure that he was going to be in school forever, it seemed he couldn't envision not getting his Ph.D. Ryan, who, two years ago, had expected to be driving a Cat for the rest of his life, found himself thinking seriously about a Master's degree.

They'd been accepted into colleges all over the country - Harbor encouraged its students to diversify their applications - but neither one of them could imagine leaving California. Both UCLA and Berkeley offered architecture programs, and Ryan had been accepted into both, just as Seth had been offered entrance into writing programs at both schools. They'd deferred admission at both places for a year, deciding to see how they felt after the trip. On the ocean, away from all interested parties, they'd decided on Berkeley. Seth wanted to be away from his parents and Ryan had been intrigued by the idea of San Francisco.

Not all their talks were serious, they often just laid on the deck in the light of the moon, hands entwined, debating the merits of Gran Turismo versus Grand Theft Auto. They'd watched the stars fall, and laid out their first apartment based on the constellations above them. They talked about sex, too, all the things they enjoyed and all the things they still wanted to try. Ryan had been with girls, and knew he liked guys better - and that he liked Seth best of all - but Seth hadn't had the same experiences, and Ryan thought maybe he should try. But Seth was resolved on this: he liked men, he'd always liked men, and he didn't want to sleep with women. Or, for that matter, anybody who wasn't Ryan. Like, ever.

They talked about traveling more: Sandy and Kirsten had always been globetrotters and Seth had been pretty much everywhere, but he wanted to go again, with Ryan. Their minds wandered, and they talked about the books they were reading, the novels Seth thought he might actually write one day. Those nights, and the days that preceded them, opened up whole new worlds to Ryan, he saw things that no kid from Chino ever gets to see and he learned that the world is a lot bigger than California but the universe is a lot smaller. He knew that he would always love the Cohens for taking a chance and giving him the opportunities they had, for being the kind of parents he hadn't even known were possible.

 _Tahiti._ After six weeks on the ocean, with brief stops along the way, Ryan hadn't thought that he cared if he ever saw land again, ever met another person besides the four he was travelling with. But then Polynesia had been beautiful, the hundreds of greens of the islands a welcome variation after a month of crystal blue water and not much else. They'd separated from the crew for a while, docking the boat in a slip in the marina in the main island for a week before meeting up again to cruise by some of the hundred or so of the little islands, and then doing the same before heading back to LA.

So many young people, and they'd alternated between playing the part of rich, dissolute young men, and eager broke backpackers. Ryan had been working two jobs all summer, and was reasonably flush, and Seth, not wanting to feel like he was the only one getting a free ride, had given sailing lessons from sunrise to sunset. Since Sandy and Kirsten had insisted on fronting everything to do with the yacht as a graduation gift, from paying the crew's salaries to buying the last can of beans, and had then thrown some money in his bank account without telling him, Ryan let himself relax and not worry about money for the first time in his life.

 _Tahiti._ Making love. In their bed. On the bow at night after the crew had turned in. Trying to shower together in the tiny head, one of Seth's legs in the shower, the other propped up on the toilet as Ryan had taken his boyfriend's cock deep in his throat. Swimming in the blue water, fathoms above the ocean floor, twining together like dolphins. The hotel room Kirsten had booked for them in Papeete had a jacuzzi built for two, and they'd had all kinds of fun with those jets. On the black sand of Venus Point, late at night, moving deep inside Seth, pressing long, sweet kisses on him, swallowing their moans to keep them from being discovered. The simple pleasure of lying in Seth's arms, caressing hands running through Ryan's hair and over his back, his head resting on a firm, warm chest.

His French instructor, Marie, was talking. "Est-ce qu'il y a quelqu'un dans cette classe qui est alle a Tahiti?"

He was getting better at understanding her right away. He'd never had a desire to learn French, figuring that once he got to college he would work on Spanish, improve the lingo he'd picked up on the streets of Chino. A month in French Polynesia, and he was fascinated by the grace and beauty of the language. This class was a lot of work, but totally worth it. Marie was big on class interaction, and Ryan was big on brownie points, so he raised his hand.

"Oui, Ryan. Tu es alle a Tahiti?"

"L'automne passe. J'ai navigue la avec mon petit ami."

You did not get to spend 4 months on a boat with Seth without learning to say 'sail' in French. Or Spanish. Or Hebrew. Ryan was wondering if there was any language he couldn't say 'sail' in when Marie corrected him.

"Bravo! Quel aventure! Mais c'est 'ma petite amie,' ou peut-etre, 'un des mes amis'. Tu ne dirais 'mon petit ami' que si ton copain est un homme. Tu me comprends?"

Well, yeah. Like Seth hadn't also taught him how to say boyfriend in ninety other languages. Still, he was going to let it go, smile and pretend that the mistake had been his. Then it occurred to him that this could be one of those moments that would always be with him if he did that. This first time he compromised publicly on the exact nature of his relationship with Seth could lead to a lifetime of hedging and fudging and hiding, and Seth deserved better than that. They deserved better than that. So he nodded and looked Marie in the eye. "Oui, je comprends. 'Mon petit ami' si j'aime un homme, 'ma petite ami' si j'aime une femme."

"Exactment!" Oh yeah, he was racking up bonus points. Double bonus points, maybe even a free life.

Ryan grinned at her. "Mon petit ami s'appelle Seth."

Marie returned his grin, and there was a slight stir in the class, but this was Berkeley, and hell, as far as he could tell, heterosexuality was a minority lifestyle around here. The guy next to him flashed him an appraising glance, but Ryan didn't take notice. He was listening to Marie talk about Tahiti, and thinking about endless blue waves, and entire days that Seth had worn nothing but cut-offs. Maybe next summer they'd take some more time off and sail the Mediterranean. That would totally help his French.

**Author's Note:**

> His French instructor, Marie, was talking. "Est-ce qu'il y a quelqu'un dans cette classe qui est alle a Tahiti?" (Has anyone in this class ever been to Tahiti?)
> 
> *
> 
> "Oui, Ryan. Tu es alle au Tahiti?" (Yes, Ryan? You've been to Tahiti?)
> 
> "L'automne passe. J'ai navigue la avec mon ami." (Last fall. My boyfriend and I sailed there.)
> 
> *
> 
> "Wow! Quel fun! Mais c'est 'ma ami,' ou peut-etre, 'un des mes amis'. Tu seulement utilizes 'mon ami' si ton copain est un homme. Tu me comprends?" (Well done! What an adventure. But it should be my girlfriend, or maybe one of my friends. You only use boyfriend, if in fact, you are dating a man.) (Essentially, anyway)
> 
> *
> 
> So he nodded and looked Marie in the eye. "Oui, je comprends. 'Mon ami' si je l'aime un homme, 'ma ami' si je l'aime une femme." (Yes, I understand. Boyfriend if I love a man, girlfriend if I love a woman)
> 
> *
> 
> Ryan grinned at her. "Mon ami s'appele Seth." (My lover's name is Seth)


End file.
